


Toxin

by BatsuGames



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Creation of elves and dwarves and spirits, Gen, God Complex, God Tier, Loss of Faith, Magic, Multi, Pseudoscience, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, War, Worldbuilding, in people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatsuGames/pseuds/BatsuGames
Summary: Aria just wanted to find a way to reach her soulbonds - the timers went all the way up her arms like nobody had seen. In reply, she created a toxin to elongate her life to find them, and in the process, ends up with the ability to control the world. She creates magic.(WorldBuilding like whoa, less on the romance but still there)





	Toxin

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to try some world building, this is what came out.

 

 

 

 

It all started because two of my soulbonds, their numbers timing down until I met them, were apparently several hundreds or thousands of years away. There had to be a way to see them, and so I worked on developing a way to do so.

 

I gawped at the difference before me, watching as the world parted before me, bending to my will.

 

The injection had worked and changed me completely.

 

And, as I would soon see, so would the world.

 

The first line of people who used my toxin all became the same as me, able to create and destroy at a thought, worshipped and feared and used as weapons of mass destruction. Countries and continents no longer had any definition, and sometimes didn’t even exist. Antarctica was used as a Headquarters base by some allying countries, and promptly was detonated. It didn’t matter who they were anymore. They were gone. More and more people were changed, but the efficacy of the toxin was most potent in me, and I never gave up the recipe for making what I called magic real to any that captured me. The toxin simply was never made again and any tiny dreg from the stolen canister was put to use.

 

After some time and a cease-fire from the mere few millions of people left in the world, the fabricated versions that had barely the thousandth of the power of the original were dispersed throughout the world after two hundred years of magical warfare.

 

Eventually humanity all became magical, but never as strong as the First, or the subsequent Primary and Secondary Line. I’d been a coward, hiding away, letting it happen, but didn’t regret doing so. The toxin promoted longevity and so after those centuries of warring, not a single change in the world had happened for good. But a change happened in me then, seeing the decimation of the world. I came away from hiding with my hundreds of books and scientific projects in some tiny little off-shoot island in the Mediterranean I’d hidden from sight, and began to heal the world. It was hard work at first, as magical destruction left a sort of stain on the world, and took hours of time to simply fix up a square metre patch of land.

 

But, it was enjoyable. To create life once more, imbuing it with magical felt worthy.

 

Not that my beginning to heal lasted long. For then there was war once more, lasting for three hundred years, where I’d had to learn how to handle a mass of handheld weapons such as guan dao, scimitar and wakizashi, because no one was willing to use anything gunpowder or explosive after the terror of billions of people dying in less than two centuries. Soon enough, even those blueprints and memories of how they’d worked began to disappear from the brain. The first couple centuries I’d only defended myself and those that came to me, but then I stepped forth, power emanating and those that didn’t stop were eradicated.

 

Good.

 

I’d done my part to help with peace.

 

So here I was. I sigh to myself as I craft new life in the ground before me. Coming up to six hundred, and feeling stressed over living from so many years of warfare. At least this green thumb attempting helped to soothe the mind.

 

“First?”

 

I turn away from my fluorescent purple leaved willow tree to the man, in a tradition General’s outfit, remnants from two hundred years ago. Most of us now favoured robes, showing our unwillingness to fight, with a simple sash to hold it together. Many made theirs fancier, diamond stitching so fine they’d bring out murmurs of awe or jewels in patterns that made your mind twist at the somewhat optical illusion impression they gave off. “Military.” I couldn’t remember his name, and, clearly, he didn’t care about mine. Or had they simply lost that information. The main reason he knew it was me was because of the sun patterned burst golden metal tattoo on my forehead. I’d put it there, physically reminding me of what I’d caused.

 

He nodded, dark eyes stern on me. “We do not have enough people. People are having problems reproducing. There are not enough people to keep human life going.”

 

“And you come to me because I have power. Exactly what do you expect from me?”

 

“Can you do something?”

 

“It’s from being in a magical world. The stains of magical blasts are stopping them. A negative reaction. The toxin is so weak in people now that…”

 

It’s true. The Primary and Secondary line (of which there had been hundreds) had been wiped out in wars, or any very few remaining ones were like me, healing what they could, making the lands beautiful and mystical. Yet the ones left over were the ones who’d gotten the fabricated versions of the toxin, and it was draining them. In fact, I was rather sure that their anti-aging was what was causing an adverse effect on them.

 

“Can you do anything?”

 

I eyed him, eyes having changed to an opalescent white, shimmering with all colours of the rainbow. I hum, going back to my tree, boosting it back into full growth, the dark trunk and roots wide and thick and thrumming, with the branches and leaves shimmering in the gentle breeze. Gorgeous. I give a smile at my work. This would influence all around it to bloom, the overinflated amount of magic would flow into the land around it and flora and fauna would soon emerge. “They simply need to leave the continent now.” I walk away, and the General follows worriedly.

 

“Leave? To where? The world is-is-”

 

“I know.”

 

The man got angry. “So what on earth do you propose we do?!”

 

“I’ll contact one other. We’ll try and figure out a way to create new land that doesn’t hurt the people. When we do this, all those who do must come to us first.” I look to him. My eyes were stern. “And you will have the people come. I will find you.” I disperse into molecules and reappear elsewhere. The top of a mountain comes into view and cold hits me until I vibrate the molecules around me, letting warmth seep into me. The view from the top of Everest was magnificent, free of the exploded sites near on everywhere had. I watched it for a good few moments before turning away to the little cottage on it.

 

I knock on the door, but it’s a half second before the door opens, and Ricardo peers at me.

 

“Hello, ‘Cardo.”

 

“A most rare occasion, Aria,” His Italian tones mutter, amber eyes eyeing me. “Still trying to heal the world?”

 

“Always.”

 

He snorts, but opens the door up, coming out instead of letting me in. A wave of the hand and a rich mahogany table was before us, a perfect size for two. On it was a steaming pot of tea, and another of coffee, with a plate of cakes from Italy and Britain. He pulled the chair out for me and with a nod of my head in thanks, I sat in it. He sits by me, running a hand through his chocolate brown hair as the teapots poured out drinks into porcelain cups. “Now,” He says, cutting himself some babbá cake as I help myself to some shortbread. “What is it you’ve found me for? After all, we promised only to find each other when dire.”

 

“Yes, we did. I just had the General meet me moments ago.”

 

Ricardo snorted, showing exactly what he thought of that man. “Desperate as usual?”

 

I smirk lightly. “Whatever else would he be? Everything is an emergency to him. But he does pose something I’d been thinking about. Dwindling population.” I explain my thoughts to him.

 

“A new plot of land away from here?”

 

“Yes. Put them on another landmass safely, rebuild this land to be magical.” I raise my hand creating a small bonsai tree. It glowed a sunny orange, and Ricardo watched intently as its magic bled into his table and flowed down the legs into the ground, were daisies began to flourish, perky and cheerful.

 

The Italian considered that. “We should travel there to see if, after a couple generation, they need to be given permanency once again or if they’re reproducing well.”

 

I nod, sighing. “Yes, this land needs to heal. I want it to be magical. Perhaps this will make it easier for them to use magic.”

 

“If they can ever stand the land being so poisonous to them.” Ricardo looked into his coffee contemplatively. “Maybe we need an immunity of some sort for them?”

 

Sipping my tea, I look out into the snowy mountains, so quiet and peaceful. Empty. “Maybe… Maybe we could make other people?”

 

His head snapped to me. “Other?”

 

“When the land is cleaned up, magical, bursting with life… Surely we can make a new people? Like the old fantasy books.”

 

The man cocks his head. “Fantasy… like dwarves?”

 

“And elves, yes.”

 

He stares at me, disbelieving, before frowning in concentration. “Very well. I could not imagine the rest of my existence with only you, after all,” He snarked.

 

I smirked back at him. “As if I’d want to share my space with you, you pedantic little snot.”

 

Ricardo chuckled, knowing that he’d been a Secondary Line and I’d had a hand in raising him and helping with his powers. “Alright, _luce del sole_ , let us heal this land.”

 

“After tea and cake.”

 

The Italian scoffed. “British and their afternoon tea.”

 

I laugh under my breath at the silly stereotype, knowing it wouldn’t be too long until the name of my land would be forgotten. Melancholy sets on me as I finish my tea and cakes up and I stand up, letting the pot and chinaware disappear when he follows, converting the energy back to magic for the land. “Let’s begin where Italy was.”

 

He smiles at me, and I can detect the gratefulness in his softened eyes as he holds his hands out. “Let’s.”

 

The next century is full of floating above the land, pointing out potential areas for certain different redevelopments. The landmass for the humans are made that very first month, full of fertile lands and magical fruit trees. It’s so much easier to create a new mass untouched by magic, and unblemished by magic stains that inhibit growth. Adding the few magical trees was chancy, but as I take away the poison in them that both stop their aging and inability to have children, it seems to be fine. Advantageous for them, even, as their magic was still there and gained a boost from taking magic form the air and land around them. Their magic was simply weaker, but safer for them. It works a charm and frankly, we leave them to do as they wish, all of us pleased with the outcome.

 

The landmass that is now an odd mix of parts of the Americas and Asiatic lands that have come together on each sides of this sort of super landmass that was still majorly Europe. Singular islands like Britain and Irelands and countries on the ends of continents like Sweden and Spain and Portugal had long since been blow up, mere rubble under the water. Magic got rid of all plastics, converting from something hard to biodegrade into magic that flared in the air. The land reverted to a simpler time of stone and glass buildings, easier to make and to maintain for a cleaner world.

 

We had fun with making the land as fantastical as possible. Floating waterfalls, glowing roads, motes bobbing in the air and bursting upon touch with little delightful bell sounds. We make mountains grander than ever before, canyons deeper and darker, layer mines with precious jewels. Jungle become sultry and mystical, deserts become wondrous and full of treasures, valleys become bursting to the brim of flowers of all kinds.

 

Then animals came along, and we bring back all sorts of animals long since deceased, and even make adjustments to some of them. Like twirling antlers on deer, or an improved intelligence and calmness in wolves, and make more of them friendly to us. Others we eradicate, like mosquitoes and wasps and cockroaches. No need for them. Then we begin to make mythical creatures. Dragons, phoenixes and griffins, all noble creatures. I made griffins to be companions of worthy peoples, and he went for the dragons to be protectors of the world.

 

When everything shone and was as perfect as we could get to it, it was then (after several hundred years and now approaching our thousandth and nine hundredth year respectively) we made the Elvhen people.

 

The first was a girl.

 

Lea.

 

We raised her for a while, making sure she was kind and peaceful, showed her how to wield her magic. We’d long since decided that all the elves would have magic and the dwarves wouldn’t, to see how it would be between them. To make sure another magical war like before wouldn’t happen. The elves wouldn’t have as much magic as we would, not ever, that we would be the last to wield this unfathomable amount of magic, because neither of us expected to want to live so many thousands of years.

 

Even if the Soulbond timers on my arms were still ridiculously long, trailing up my arms to my shoulders.

 

When Lea looked lonely, that’s when we then made five hundred men and women to boost the Elvhen population. We trained them up in magic, on caretaking of the world and feel relief and lightness in our hearts and souls that war was so far removed from the now. We stayed with them for hundreds of years, rejoicing in new life and culture happening without our input. But as soon as they began to look to us as the ultimate beings is when we made ourselves scarce. No way we were prompting that sort of attitude, with myself hiding down in the depths of the ocean in my water castle. I left a doorway open to Ricardo, who’d gone back to his home up in the mountains, and the pair of us led lives of solitude. Only occasionally did we go to see them and watch their evolution.

 

Ricardo and I collect pieces of history, some art here, a bit of pottery there, books that we enjoyed and recipes we delighted in, not wanting to lose them. We kept them in a separate and hidden treasure trove far deep in part of the land that was stormy and harsh. Time just… goes by. Some days we fall into apathetic funks that last centuries, and other times we have a plethora of ideas we have to slow down lest boredom drains our souls from our bodies. And then… it wasn’t just thousands of years that had past, but tens of thousands, and I’d realised that I was coming up to thirty thousand years old. At least, that’s what the clocks had told me.

 

I gawp when I realised I’d forgotten the city I was born in. I go back to old books in a frenzy, needing to know. Needing to-

 

I slam through books, smacking pages along without regard to care.

 

_Cardiff._

 

The relief hits me, hard and fast and I slump to the seat before the fireplace.

 

I don’t move for weeks, staring at that one word, contemplating all I could recall about Wales.

 

Not for the first time, I tear up at all that had been lost.

 

I look down at my arms.

 

Scowling at the Soulbond Timers on them, I sneer. “You… You were _not worth it._ ”

 

Not all this pain.

 

Not thousands upon thousands of years of waiting, death, and disappointment.

 

Not this loneliness.

 

.

 

Then one day (however many dozens of hundreds of years later it was as I’d long since begun to forget) while in my library, reading one of the books an elf had made, one such being came into my home.

 

I lifted my head, feeling the unknown little magic.

 

When an elf nervously stepped in, tall at about seven and a half feet, his ears perky and shining green eyes anxious, he sucked in a breath at seeing me. “First Creator!” He bowed low in a fashion I’d not seen before, kneeling on one knee and then putting his two fingers to forehead, brandishing them back and forth from there to my feet. “Lady of the Sun!”

 

That… actually wasn’t inaccurate. I smile at him, bemused, putting the book down. “It seems you have found a way to my not-so-humble abode. What can I do for you? What is your name?”

 

“I am Elgar’nan – First creator, war has broken out amongst our people!”

 

My eyes widen. “War…” I repeat to myself. “We had taught our creations the ways of peace and of caring of the land,” I hiss out, suddenly infuriated and magic blared out of me like a spewing volcano.

 

Elgar’nan whimpered, prostrating himself before me, a mass of tremors and nerves.

 

I reel it all back in. “Up, my child.” I float before him. “What is it you wish?”

 

Shakily, he peered up at me, blond hair slightly hiding his fearful gaze and making me wonder if I was that imposing. “I want to be able to protect my people! Please teach me your ways!”

 

I hum, wondering why Ricardo wouldn’t have taken this one up. “You came through the doorway of… what do you call him?”

 

“S-Second Creator. Lord of the Moons.”

 

Moons? Plural? What on earth had happened out there?

 

I narrow my eyes. “Come with me.” I fly to the door as he scrambles after me, entering the doorway and appearing in Ricardo’s cottage. No one was there. I tested the magic in the area, and noted that the cottage was an illusion. I tapped the image before me and it cracked, splintering to the ground like broken glass and disappearing into magic. In its place was a singular chamber with three walls and a roof, all homely furnishings gone, and the bonsai tree I’d once grown those thousands of years ago smack dab in the middle of it. It’s then I turn around and look up.

 

A golden castle.

 

Ricardo.

 

Elgar’nan makes a sound as my magic grasps him and we reappear inside the doors of it.

 

I narrow my eyes when magic tries to force me out.

 

His magic.

 

Then he’s there, shining in the most brilliant of armour, an aura of platinum like moonbeams around him, looking completely like a God.

 

I breath through my nose heavily.

 

Elgar’nan is quick to go to his knees, but I grasp the back of his luxurious robes and pull him up again harshly. I don’t look at him as he quivers in my grasp, not letting go of him. “You will not bow to him, Elgar’nan. We have long since agreed upon what not to do, Lord of the Moons,” I mock, making Ricardo scowl deeply at me. Internally, I cut off the doorway from his old home to my underwater domain. “Why have you done this? Become something you’re not?”

 

“Did I not help create the land, help create the people, have immortality and so much power?”

 

“Did I not create _you_ Ricardo?”

 

The man eyes me warily at that. “And what of it?”

 

“What is it you have intended to do?”

 

That gets the Italian back on his high horse, lifting his chin as he floats before us. “The humans have come back to land while you have hidden away like a coward once again. Our people are weak, pitiful- they should not be. They should be greatest of all kinds. Not these creations, who lounge around, achieving nothing,” He spat out and I’m gobsmacked for a moment.

 

“Let us have talks by the tree that we agreed to create the elves and the dwarves.”

 

A second later we were there.

 

And arguing ensues for hours and hours, the pair of us unable to agree. I cannot stand his need to mess with his creations, for him to have them worship him and he cannot stand my hands-off approach, calling me weak for not controlling my creations well enough, not looking after them. It’s then I’ve had enough and push away from the tree.

 

“You-”

 

“Fine, be a God! But don’t you dare incite war between them or the other species! Or you shall deal with _me_.”

 

.

 

From then on, I’m watching the people, training up Elgar’nan to be a protector, showing him to a griffin that he takes on as his own and forms his own colony of them. They fly around the elvhen cities, magnificent places full of gaiety and debauched attitudes. Many of them were young; most, in fact. Barely in the four hundreds, and it turns out there had been wars going on for so long that they were still children in our eyes. Wars decimating so much of the populace once more… all started by Ricardo for his own amusement.

 

It's not as though I didn’t understand. There’d been many times I’d watched creatures underwater battle it out, sending waves of aggression out for my own amusement, my own form of bear-fighting. But to do it to my creations? My elves? I couldn’t.

 

And then he did it.

 

Ricardo begun a battle, and I fought.

 

Elgar’nan brought his closest companion to me, Mythal, and I trained her up, teaching her to transform to different magical beings, to wield weapons and to summon magic both deadly and kind.

 

It stayed away from some cities. Such as this one I was travelling through to remind myself what I was even bothering to fight for. Ricardo’s favourite elven city. The youths, knowing not who I was as I go under illusion through Arlathan, try and tempt me into bed, somehow unable to sense my power, are turned down politely. No way I could take anyone whose mind was so inexperienced.

 

It just made me feel old, _ancient_ beyond words.

 

I was tired, lagging.

 

Dead languages haunted me. Dead civilisations rested on my shoulders. Dead people’s memories lingered bitterly in my head.

 

I go back to the tree and slump against it, pulling knees up, locking arms around them.

 

Ricardo is there suddenly, sword in hand.

 

He stares at me, and I lift my head, shadows over my face. His swords clatters to the ground and he falls next to me, weeping, shaking. “End me. End this life. I cannot do it to myself, please!” He begs, desperate, needful, _maddened_. “I’m past insane, I need to finish, I beg you, let it drain from me, this poison of magic, this-” He gasps and jerks, feeling magic leave him. A hoarse laugh leaves him, and his body withers. “Thank you, thank you, oh gods thank you, please be well, you wonderful, truly beautiful-”

 

Ricardo’s body falls to the ground, turning to bones, turning to ash, and finally turning to sand-like particles of glimmering magic.

 

I pull it to my hand, knowing he was gone forever, then I lift my closed fistful of magic to my head. I need something to remind me of him, some sort of event. Everything he was, every emotion, I breathe life into them, blowing on my fist, opening up and letting the motes of magic whizz away, turning into living embodiments of emotion, another type of species. The spectral beings bow to me, understanding my intent for them and leave.

 

Compassion is the one to come to me and I smile, touching their cheek. The spirit falls into me and I suck in a breath at feeling such warmth. I cherish it, allowing them to stay there for a small amount of time. Then I let go, knowing that could get addictive.

 

.

 

The next dozens of years I wander the land, watching passively, face blank.

 

Each year, I would seek out a spirit for one day, letting the emotion flow over me, just to recall what it felt like.

 

This year was Melancholy.

 

And with that, I ask of the spirits of Melancholy, Joy and Learning to collect items each year, marks of history, and bring them to my little museum of the world. I imbue the ability to take in memories and stores them in what amounts to a pensieve so they’re not overloaded. Then I go down to my watery domain, made into a palace decade by decade, after teaching the elves how to awaken a person that goes into deep sleep.

 

Having met and made friends only with Elgar’nan and Mythal, I don’t expect anyone to awaken me.

 

They’ve become focused on power.

 

I sigh.

 

They’re welcome to the loneliness of it.

 

I put myself into a box, made to look uninteresting and dull, wrap a blindfold around my eyes and a barrier on my magic to conceal it, and sleep.

 

.

 

I don’t know how many years I slept, but it feels as if it’s been a damn long time when someone opens the box I’m in.

 

_Something is terribly wrong._

 

“Fasta Vass! It’s a woman! A Tranquil…” I hear a refined voice say. I shift. “Alive?”

 

_Where is the magic?_

 

“Shit, c’mon lady,” I hear a deeper voice go, and large hands pluck me up from the box. I move to the warmth, to the touch of another person. Whoever it is, they’re huge, broad, and smell unusual. Not bad, but different. “Not surprised whoever it was did this… Solas, you good?”

 

_Where is all the life around me?!_

 

A soft pair of fingertips touch my gloved hand and I still completely.

 

Magic danced over my hand as my Soulbond Timer glimmered from underneath the silk.

 

Holy shit.

 

His emotions burst forth to me and I feel all of him. His magic, life force and feelings are suddenly there. Alarm, and then pain and sorrow comes to mind. “She is my Soulbond.”

 

“Vishante kaffas, I am so sorry, Solas.”

 

I move from the arms and slink down to the ground elegantly, turning my hand to properly grip his. I wish I could give him more, let him feel me, but I could not until I knew what was happening, the circumstances of my current life. where is all the magic – I turn my head at noise. Listening, I then feel it, the magic.

 

Bound.

 

What had happened?

 

“Will you remove your glove for me, so I may see the mark?”

 

I do so for him automatically, tilting my wrist so the inside is bared, where his name now is.

 

_Solas._

 

I daren’t take my blindfold off, not needed, as magic in my body easily ‘sees’ for me. It’s there, in new elven writing. I lick my lips, suddenly anxious. Does he approve of me? Is this Tranquil thing truly so bad? How do I please my bond, my elf? It has been so long since I had a companion… At least he is a few thousand years old. Not like the life forces of the children around me. Speaking of, who is this new creation that plucked me from my sleeping box? He had horns, large and muscular. I realise my mind is away from the conversation, as suddenly my hand is grasped by my bond and gently tugging me along with him.

 

I wonder where we go, but it doesn’t matter. I know this world inside and out. I put the glove into a pocket inside my robe. I wonder if my basic but form-fitting robe, high-collared and baggy sleeved that falls to my knees, with long skirt and boots is common for this time. My hair is hidden by bandana, which is attached to a sort of hood that fell down to my ribs, weights around the edges to keep it there. There’s nothing special about them, just a normal forest green in slightly differing shades without embellishment. I listen, noting they were talking about me, but nothing about the clothing… until the accented voice speaks up.

 

“Miss… ah?”

 

I turn to him. “You speak to me?” I ask with inflection as we walk.

 

“Yes. I am Dorian, formerly of Minrathous.” I feel him give a bow and blink at it. “How do you do?”

 

I mimic as best as I can while my hand is held. “I am Aria. How do you do?”

 

“Where you from, sleeping beauty?” I hear a gruff voice, lower down – the dwarf. Whenever I am, I’m glad my creations were alive and well.

 

Curiousness comes through the bond.

 

I cock my head. “I was never told.”

 

A sigh comes from a couple of them, and they must think I was… some sort of slave, perhaps? Or of simple mind? I did not care, still stunned by two major events happening in my life.

 

One of my bonds, and the magic gone from the air.

 

I swallow.

 

I didn’t know which was worse.

 

“I wonder if she has family?” I hear a female voice.

 

So there is another dwarf, one with magic on her-?!

 

Solas’ magic is on her hand.

 

Then the third revelation comes to me when my mind links up these events.

 

My bond bound magic away.

 

Betrayal whipped through me, and though my magic was under steel control, this… This pushed it. This pushed it really, really fucking hard. How did he even accomplish such a thing? How far did the elves develop enough to overwhelm my magical influence? Of course… It was potentially hundreds of thousands of years I could have slept.

 

“Aria, you got family?”

 

“No,” I reply, unaffected. It’s been too damn long since I had anyone but for Ricardo. I wonder how my spirits are doing. I send up a command for them not to speak of me, to show no memories and to be unable to say why. I get a mental response of obeisance.

 

“You bowed the Tevinter way, are you from there perhaps?” Dorian wonders of me.

 

I muse upon the fact he is holding something like my bond, some sort of pole-arm and it was attached to him magic. Or at least he put his magic in there for some reason. Did it enhance it? Honestly, he needed it. Was this how magic was in humans now? “I was north. I do not know. I was not told.”

 

“I shall find out more when we reach Skyhold,” Solas tells them, his hand tightening on mine protectively. “The unusual mark of Tranquility is something to ponder on, but there is no magic in Aria.”

 

The big guy with horns speaks up, “Are you a spy for the Venatori?”

 

“No,” I say, unaffected.

 

“Who do you work for?” Horn-guy continues.

 

I haven’t worked for anyone in thousands of years and it almost makes me laugh to hear this question. “No one. What are you?”

 

“Qunari. Never met one before?”

 

I cock my head at him. “No. You are very big.”

 

That gets me a snort of amusement. “Part of the whole qunari thing. Got horns as well. I’m The Iron Bull, by the way, mercenary leader of the Chargers.”

 

Bowing the Tevinter style to him, I spoke, “How do you do? Horns?” I let go of Solas’ hand, actually relieved to do so after finding out he is the one to do this thing above us. Though my hand feels empty… I brush that thought aside. “Can I touch them?” In reply my ungloved hand is gently taken and put onto a horn. My hand slides along, they’re mostly well oiled, so I figure they must get dried out. They’re long, and have tips pointing up. “They feel very elegant. You upkeep them well.”

 

I get a chuckle in reply. “Thanks, squirt. Might want to hold off on the compliments. Got a jealous elf on your hands.”

 

I can feel it. “You are jealous? This one is not my bond. You are.” I pull on the glove so my hands are covered once more. “Though I have two soulbonds, Solas. I have not met the other.”

 

That causes his emotions to spike, with definite jealousy being suddenly more noticeable.

 

“Probably something to talk about in private,” The male dwarf speaks and I turn to him. “Varric Tethras, Master storyteller.”

 

Again, I do the bow. “How do you do?”

 

“Polite. I’m pretty good. Can’t wait to get out of this pissing rain.”

 

“Oh. Yes. It rains.” I tilt my head up, enjoying it on my face, ignoring how my hood slips.

 

Varric sighed to himself and I hear him mutter under his breath, “Yup, Tranquil, alright,” as Solas put it back up for me.

 

.

 

Skyhold.

 

It’s… I feel the tree that was the dying scene of my dearest companion.

 

I stare at it, chopped down, a damn table.

 

They’re interrogating me and I mechanically reply. No I’m not a spy, no I don’t work for Lord who-the-fuck-care’s or Lady what’s-her-name. No I’ve never heard of Corypheus. No I’m not a blood mage. Yes, I can cook. No, I don’t mind working in the kitchens to pay my way here. It amuses me to think I have to pay in the very world I helped create. I don’t mind do menial work, being a servant, though I feel Solas is indignant on my behalf.

 

But this tree.

 

Gutted from its’ greatness.

 

What the hell happened to the world?

 

_Ricardo…_

 

My hand is grasped and I am tugged off once again.

 

_Should I have followed what you did?_

 

Would the world still be one if I had?

 

.

 

Despite his frustration and a sense of resentment, Solas does not often let me too far out of his realm of power.

 

So to speak.

 

Elves, skittish and wary, seem to always be spying for him, sending notes his way, keeping tabs on me. I often have the same questions daily. _Are you well? Do you need anything? Are they working you too hard? Are they slandering you?_ I answer the same as always. If I’m not in the kitchen, or oddly for me, sleeping or washing (magic being so useful) then I was reading on the chaise longue in the rotunda, where Solas kept me near.

 

I did not mind doing as he wanted, it was new to be under the whims of another. Barely anything was fresh to me, so used to going through the motions. Why I hadn’t thought of going without magic… I suppose it was just like breathing, really. To go without it isn’t even on the mind. Oh, and not to say he was some sort of master and I a slave, but to go along with what he wants in relation to me seems to calm his mind. There is a burden on his shoulders. I could guess partly at why.

 

Though I had to wonder at why the elves were no longer immortal. A bricked-up load of magic in another ‘realm’ should not have stopped them from their longevity. Yet, I suppose no magic would do it, reducing them to mortals like humans. But then some of them could use magic. A woman named Ellana Lavellan, who was curt and angry and jealous of me being with Solas, had magic. I could only guess at their lineage having human in it, even if generations ago. Elves were made to hold magic. Either they had it and immortality, or they simply didn’t. Or, something else was now in them to have magic.

 

It's just how I made them.

 

I read the last page, finishing the book, and gently close it.

 

Solas looks up at the light sound.

 

“What did you think of it?”

 

“It needs a better editor.”

 

Varric, having come down the stairs, laughs at that, arms full of books. “Nice. What one’s that?” I hold it up and he reads the title, _A Songbird for the Lord._ “Hm. A Dupris novel. Who gave you a romance?”

 

“Cassandra.”

 

The dwarf snorts, and even Solas gives a slight chuckle. “Not surprised. Thinks she’s kept it secret. So what did you think of Songbird.”

 

“She is foolish. Diving into danger when she has no way to defend herself, nor allies, or enemies to deceive or the possible ability to do so. A poor character. The writer is clearly male, he focuses too much on her figure, and has a kink for bondage. Poor at that.” I speak back, inwardly a little annoyed. But I delight in even that little bit. It’s so hard to feel much after so long. I can only thank the fact I have a bond completed. “Predictable. Illinformed. Good description of scenery. Clearly has never spoken to a mage. Three out of ten.” I put the book to the side. “I would not burn it. A lesson in what not to write.”

 

Solas and Varric look at each other, this being the most they’ve had out of me.

 

Honestly it was a horribly written book.

 

That was always a little nit-pick of mine.

 

“Sounds like someone knew what they were talking about. Had an eventful life before the Tranquility?”

 

He made me want to smile. “Perhaps,” I murmur, putting the book down to my right where three others were finished. “I hope Cassandra did not think it good. You must give her pointers if she does, Varric.”

 

“Feeling opinionated today, I see!” Varric sat next to me, on the opposite side of books I’ve yet to read, wanting to get more out of me, with Solas overseeing us watchfully. “That book must have riled you up.”

 

“Yes. I could write better and I have a lack of emotion.”

 

Varric hummed at that. “Why don’t you? I can give you some writing utensils and paper, hook you up with my editor. But she only takes the best.”

 

I’d written a series before but… No one would know it here. I’d find out that the elves I knew were ancient. Though a few were doted here and there. And I doubt that Solas even read this series. It was way before he was born. I never did get around to finishing it. It was in my head, I simply had to get a spirit to bring forth the memory. I get a mental nod from Compassion. “I would like that. Now?”

 

“You got a story?”

 

“I do. You may read it after I complete it,” I say softly. “You will like it.”

 

“Confident,” Solas comments.

 

“As will you. It will be about the ancient elves. May I sit with you as I write later on, Varric?”

 

“Course you can, glider.”

 

I nod at my nickname, having gotten from him that he was referring to how I walked to excellently for being blind. “I have work in the kitchen. I will be back in two hours.” All I really did was peel potatoes or knead bread. Boring, but I listened to the conversation, enjoying the light-hearted conversation and gossip and rumours. I gave the usual bow and made my way out, with Compassion meeting me out in the courtyard to touch me for delivery of memories, making me smile at him and he giggled shyly, blipping away and I went on to the kitchens. When it was time, I washed up, came back in the usual tunic and breeches I wore, never wearing a coat because Varric was right next to a fireplace and it always was blazing with heat. I nod to him as I settle in a chair next to his.

 

Then I begin writing, predicting if I skipped sleep I could do half a book.

 

I ignored all else, focusing on my writing being perfect, on having no grammar issues, changing up a few sentences that I decided I didn’t like.

 

Varric bids me goodnight and I pause to bow my head at him.

 

It’s when Solas comes out and watches me that trouble begins.

 

Some Lord of somewhere approaches. “Elf, go and get me a glass of wine!” He’s clearly inebriated.

 

“If you wish a bottle, the kitchens are still open,” I insert first before the mage can reply. “If you are so desperate for more liquor, I would be happy to get you a bottle.”

 

“Ugh, Tranquil. No, he is elf-”

 

“His name is Solas. Desist on speaking to him as such or I shall be forced to retaliate.”

 

The Lord sneers, not sensing the threat. “Quiet, Tranquil. You have no mind anyway so I won’t suffer your tongue. Now! Do as I bid, elf!”

 

There’s a sudden welling of protectiveness in me, and I revel in it, lowering my quill to the table but not yet letting go. “Tranquility is a lack of emotions, not of loss of mind or sense. Even if it were, you do not even have to _be_ Tranquil to be such. That is highly apparent.”

 

A little smirk of Solas’ lips and the pleasure floating in him makes it worth it.

 

He looks ready to throw down, nostrils flaring and offense on his face.

 

“You will step back from one of my companions!” The Inquisitor barks out suddenly, appearing with the Nightingale Leliana and Ambassador Josephine from the War Room.

 

The Lord falls over himself to do so, blabbering blames on us.

 

I go back to writing, not listening to the idiot.

 

“Aria?”

 

I do not pause. “Yes?”

 

“Did you threaten this man?”

 

“I told him not to speak so rudely or I would be forced to retaliate. I will not have my soulbond harassed and verbally abused due to perceived status in this society.” There is nothing to my tone, no hint of venom or fear. Just calm clarity.

 

He slams his hand down on the table, getting in my face. “You see! I wish for a duel, Tranquil! Right here, right now!”

 

Solas stands up. “I cannot allow-”

 

“A duel it is.” I finish up the paragraph and stand up myself. “How would you like to duel? Clearly not in words. You’ve already lost there.”

 

“Aria. It is only words,” Solas remarks, worried. “It is my honour. Allow me.”

 

I give him a smile, making him still. “Surely one with your name would understand pride? I cannot simply pass it over. Do not worry, I can fight.” I get up, immediately dodging the blade coming my way, feeling my blood pump as the most predictable of moves comes my way. I grasp his wrist and jerk it in a way the muscle hated, making his give a pathetic sound and drop it reactively. I catch it and point it at his throat. “Dead.” I twist him around and shove him back, allowing his temple to smack to the corner of the table and knock him out.

 

I hear clapping, and sense Compassion.

 

“He was not a nice man,” Cole says.

 

Nodding, I agree with a soft, “He is very rude.”

 

“He thought you would be an easy win.”

 

“He is also very stupid.”

 

That gets a snort from the Inquisitor and Josephine giggles behind a hand before coughing to cover it. “Ahem,” The Antivan clears her throat. “I shall make sure he gets on the first carriage out of here, and speak to his sponsor. You can fight, I see, Miss Aria?”

 

“Yes, I do.” I go to the Inquisitor and hand her the blade. “I will fight for you, as is my choice, if you want me to.”

 

Malika hums at that, looking to a pursed-lipped Solas. “We will need to depart for a battle. I’ll be taking Solas with me when we get to whatever it is in the Arbor Wilds Corypheus desires. We fight against a self-proclaimed god. Can you handle this?”

 

I feel my other timer flicker. “With ease. When do we leave?”

 

“Tomorrow morning.”

 

I nod in understanding. “I shall prepare. Goodnight, Inquisition.” I take my things from the table, bow and then leave the Great Hall. Solas is quick to follow me, longer legs able to easily keep up and my arm is caught. “Solas.”

 

“I do not wish for you to fight.”

 

“You believe a lack of eyesight and magic and emotions will hinder one.”

 

Solas shook his head. “No, you have shown yourself to be agile and wily. A logical soldier can be better than an emotional one. I do not wish for you to put yourself in danger.” His hands held my shoulders, pulling me to him gently.

 

They were warm and his concern was vivid in him, and when I leant against him, he was solid, reliable.

 

“My other bond is there.”

 

Jealousy was palpable as he stiffens.

 

“I cannot have him die if the who calls himself god is going there.” I lift a hand of his and kiss the palm, feeling an instant sense of intrigue and heightened lust. I let my lips linger but then sigh. “I apologize for such forwardness.”

 

“There is nothing to apologize for.” His words are toned lower, if only slightly. “I will keep you safe.”

 

“I thank you for your mindfulness. Then, we shall go to the Arbor Wilds.” I part from him.

 

.

 

It’s in the morning that the door is locked.

 

From the outside.

 

And it is early evening.

 

When I exit the room, the place feels empty, less magical beings in it, and I find someone. “What is the date?” I ask of the servant.

 

“The twelfth, Miss Aria?”

 

It’s been a whole damn week. They’d be there by now, considering the army was on horseback. Honestly, I’m not even annoyed. That he managed to do so was impressive. I smile to myself at having such a worthy companion. Of course, him being my companion meant that he’d get through any barriers of mine with ease. I could do no less for my bonds. But still, a whole week made me proud.

 

I bid her goodbye and leave, going into the corridor and simply dissolving, reappearing in the forest, invisible above the Well.

 

My timer bleeds and then I’m behind the black-haired woman stabbing my bond and flinging her to the side, grasping him before he falls and heal him in an instant. The male jerks around as the others get up. Golden eyes lock onto me, underneath the bright burst of green bondings on his forehead climbing down his face.

 

I’m suddenly stilled, eyes widening beneath the blindfold when I feel the marking, and its’ meaning.

 

“ _Slavery? To Mythal? She dares claim what is mine? What I have waited for so long to find?_ ” I hiss in elvhen, grasping his wrist.

 

Sharp fury bubbles in me, the whispers of the well silencing themselves in fear.

 

I want to rip her asunder.

 

“ _First my world has been shorn of its life blood, and now I find Mythal of all has made slaves?_ ” I didn’t understand. She was, out of the two I’d trained, least likely to be a slave-owner. I felt Solas approach, having gotten up and he came over to me instantly. I take his hand and then let my magic flicker, making us invisible, and then make us reappear in my old underwater home. I let go of them, twisting in the air and stand before the large window, where I’d once watched underwater beasts fight for my own pleasure. Both stared at me, stunned. “Sit.” I wave a hand, chairs appearing in a flash of magic that was completely unnecessary but gained their attention.

 

Abelas was the first to do so. “Soulbond?”

 

“I am Aria, the First.” It didn’t seem to register anything. Perhaps a good thing. I wasn’t sure. I take off the blindfold, letting it dissolves into nothing when I drop it. “Welcome to my underwater palace.”

 

“Underwater… that isn’t just an illusion?” Solas says faintly. “The magic it would take-”

 

“Power is of no concern to me. I am the First.” I turn to them, opalescent eyes on them and they leaned forward, marvelling. “Now what is Mythal’s bonding on you for?” Then I frown. “No, wait. I shall ask her myself.” I find her power with ease. Snagging her from wherever she was, I grasp her painfully and pull her into my sitting room, slamming her to the floor. I was surprised by the old form she wore. She gasped and immediately bowed on one knee to me, two fingers going from her forehead to me feet repeatedly before prostrating herself. “I had expected so much more from you, Mythal. You were so kind as a child.”

 

“Your Worship,” Mythal began hurriedly, not daring to raise herself. “Lady of the Sun, I beg your forgiveness and your ear!”

 

“You have my ear. Hurry, before I see how many wretched angles I can twist your spine and spirit into for daring to go against one of my rules, student.”

 

The other two are silent, still, watching.

 

“Elgar’nan and a small group of others, they brought war upon each other. Claimed what is yours as slaves, grew fat upon power they never should have held. Proclaimed themselves Gods. I copied, to protect as many as I could. I tried to find you, we searched so many, many places, but Your Worship is unfathomably powerful and cunning. I could do no other than follow your learnings, and to break your most earnest rules.”

 

“Knowledge.”

 

Spirits of that kind swarm in, my favoured ones. “This is true, My First.” They spoke in eerie unison. They reached forward, bringing forth memories. There was will to find me, there were so many hundreds of scouts sent out, but only Elgar’nan and Ricardo had seen the inside of my private lair. Then I watched the avarice, the eagerness to spend and obtain and to win the fights. Mythal even grew to enjoy her power over others. Yet, there was always the will to protect, never to dominate ruthlessly. This… this was forgivable.

 

I look to Abelas, breaking the bond on his face with a thought, the ink dripping down and then apart, bursting into magic. “Do you realise Mythal, that you grasped slavery over my Soulbonds?” I don’t look away from him. Then I sigh and peer out the window. “I am tired of cleaning up after my peoples messes. My students become slavers and warmongers, and my own bond rips magic from the world I helped to create. There are rooms available. Go.” They flick out of my sight as spirits take them away and I slump into the chair before the fireplace, putting my face in my hands. “What’s the fucking point anymore?”

 

When was the last time I truly enjoyed life?

 

One of the spirits comes forth, holding a memory.

 

Shifting back to lean an elbow on the arm of the comfy chair and lean my chin on the back of my hand, I take it with a nod and let it disperse into me.

 

Solas, painting.

 

I suppose I could hold out for them, if only for a few hundred more years.

 

So tired.

 

I close my eyes to half-mast.

 

So, so tired.

 

.

 

It feels like minutes before morning is upon me, only foretold by the little gadget of a spinning globe of Earth turning into place.

 

I faze back into it as Abelas walks before me, gently kneeling to look up to me.

 

“Lady of the Sun?”

 

“My name is Aria. Please, you are my bond,” I say softly, pleading. “Do not call me by that title.”

 

“I am Abelas. I understand that the Dread Wolf and I are your Soulbonds. The Soulbonds of a goddess. You helped to create the world?”

 

“And your people,” I add on quietly. “About forty thousand years ago, I was lonely. I wanted people to join me after I made the land beautiful with the Lord of the Moon. There was only one at the time,” I muse, looking to the left, slumping my head to the side to eye the bookcase. I tug a book to me telepathically, letting it come before me opened to a specific page. I trail a fingernail down the page of perfect handwriting, written in English. “Yes, Ricardo and I created the dwarves and the elves because my fellow humans were being harm by the traces of toxin that stopped them from reproducing. We had sent them to a new land we had pulled up. Somehow they came back.”

 

“Humans were there before I was born.” Abelas gently takes the book from me when I silently gesture if he wanted it, frowning at the unknown language, but some part of him recognised it. “Do I know this?”

 

“It’s beyond ancient by now. The script is easy, only twenty-six letters, and the language is English, my mother tongue. How old are you?”

 

“Two thousand and eighty-two. Will you teach me this language?”

 

Saying nothing, I touch his head, putting the memory in there. He sucks in a breath, wonder on his face and then he gets to reading, voracious to know. It makes me smile as I gently take off my gloves, amazed at the sight of plain skin, no timers, and just names. I just watch him, revelling in all these new things happening to me, contemplating each moment of feeling, of the events that had me feeling, and what I should do about it.

 

If I even should.

 

A thumb rubs something away from my cheek.

 

Abelas looks concerned when I stare at him. He rubs his fingers, a frown on his face deepening. “You are crying, bond.”

 

I touch my face, pulling back my fingers and see tears. “Oh. I suppose I cry for it all. Sorry, I… Will not be a very compassionate soulbond anymore.” I blink when my hand is grasped in the softest of manners and lips press to the back of it. “You are kind.”

 

“Perhaps we may be able to change that?” Solas appears, looking down at us both.

 

“You are good at change,” I think out loud. He stiffens but says nothing. I stand, stroking Abelas’ cheek as I do. “Forty thousand plus years ago, I created the elves, had a hand in creating the dwarves… with my fellow, Ricardo. He was the Lord of the Moon. He fell to temptation. I fell to loneliness. I stayed here, for so, so, long… Then he began wars amongst my creations. This… this was before your birth. He was bored. I cannot blame him for it. We were mortal humans. I am the one to blame and thank for magic. I created a way to use it. Humans… We were the only ones here on planet Earth. Everything happened because of you two.”

 

“The soulbonds?” Solas asks almost silently as I walk to the window.

 

“Yes. I looked for a way to make myself immortal because you were both so many years away. I couldn’t stand that. What I instead found was a way to manipulate the world. An injection, from pure chance and luck, able to make me immortal. I was the First. I took the majority of that one singular vial, injected myself. Then it was stolen by my government, stolen by other governments and syndicates, and then the world of around eight or nine billions went to war. Only a few millions survived from those first two hundred years. I was the first, then came the Secondary Line, who had mere drops of my toxin infect them. Even Mythal and Elgar’nan, my students, barely had a hundredth of their magic, as I called it.”

 

“You taught them both?” Abelas asks, coming up to my side.

 

“Barely anything it feels, but yes. I was in charge of a Secondary Line, Ricardo, to try and keep the peace. He was practically my child. I raised him from youth. Hundreds of years later, we saw the world as destroyed as it was. You remember the beauty of it? The glowing leaves of pulsing trees, the floating waterfalls, the ever flowering lands? All our power. Our creations. After war had wrecked the land, we wanted to repair it. We did. We sent away the humans to heal as the toxin that made us so powerful, the scraps and fabrications of it that came after, it made them weak, unable to bare the next generation. Magic poisoned them. We made another land, put them on it. Healed the world. Created your kind and dwarves to keep us company when we realised the immortality before us.”

 

Solas came to my other side. “Companions?”

 

“The first ever elf was a girl-child name Lea. Our Light. Ricardo and I raised her to be kind, to care for the world we’d made for you all. She was our darling, always laughing and enjoying life. She was… the best daughter we could have hoped for. When she became lonely, we made five hundred females, and five hundred males, and then let your species go on. We watched, helped when needed, but adored you all. Abelas, you’re a direct descendent of the first elf to exist. You… You have her nose.”

 

Bemused, he raised a hand to it.

 

I simply pulled him down, kissing him on the tip of it before moving back to my previous position of staring out to the water. “Then when I killed Ricardo, the Lord of the Moon, I made spirits from his ashes.” It’s moments later I feel it. “Kraken.”

 

The humungous squid comes forth, only his eye able to be seen in the humungous window from how colossal he is, and he cries at me.

 

“My friend, I have missed seeing you.”

 

A sound of pain.

 

I nod. “Then I shall give you a child, as asked.” I wave a hand, and a bubble pops beside him, four little girls and a boy appearing, their tentacles wiggling. Kraken brings them closer, cuddling them. A heavy tentacle lands on the window, beckoning. I step through it, easily able to breath, and I stroke his head in the way he likes. I laugh as the daughters and son comes to me, excited and playful, wiggling about and I tickle them. They all screech in delight and swim circles around me. I bow and swim back, blessing them both, floating through the window, instantly dry. I watch them leave. Though Kraken turns back, making a groaning noise and tapping the window at my bonds.

 

Amused, I chuckle and nod.

 

“What did he say?”

 

“He thanks me, and hopes I will make my own immensely strong children. We should probably procreate soon if you two want children. There is not much time left in me.”

 

Abelas looks at me, alarmed. “You will soon die?”

 

“No… It’s because I will soon wish to no longer exist. I met Elgar’nan when he was so young, mere hundreds of years… around my thirty-four thousandth year. I am… so completely exhausted with living. A new world like this will keep me entertained as I understand the new history, for however long that may last. I will do my best for you both as I struggle with depression and suicide,” I say blankly. “Who knows… you may both cure it for a goodly amount of time.” I turn, leaving them as I walk away.

 

Then I stop.

 

My eyes flash as I catch whoever it is rushing my home in a barrier, blocking off their magic by halting the toxin in them.

 

Abelas and Solas were powering up spells in their glowing hands as I look around.

 

Elgar’nan is there, much grown, majestic, yet so fucking foolish as he is hovering still in the circular barrier.

 

“I don’t understand…” I say.

 

Trapped, he replies, “Of course you don’t. So cowardly, weak of spirit, ever hidden, never wanting to fight-”

 

“No. It’s funny. You sound like Ricardo. The one who I made you not bow to. Remember that? From so long ago?” I ask rhetorically. “He thought himself a God. My my. How life comes in full circle again and again and again. I cannot believe how stupid you are. How stupid your kind seems to be after thousands of years of experience.” I laugh lowly. “Did you think I couldn’t make what you are into nothing? Did you forget I literally wished your kind into being? Did you think I couldn’t undo any magic you have? That whatever you have now in supposed defence could stop me?”

 

Elgar’nan tried to fight and escape, but could only twist and shift, groaning painfully as my barrier inflicted pain upon him.

 

Abelas and Solas had their weapons up, magicked in and awaiting deployment upon command.

 

“What a disappointment you have been.” I glower at him. “After all I helped you be who you are. You’d have been dead should I have wished it.”

 

“I… could have made it beautiful!”

 

I shake my head. “It already was before you were born. You ruined my world. Adieu, Elgar’nan. You were incredible one time.” I snuff his life out without thought, watching without affectation as he dissipated into molecules of magic and made him part of the world once more, never to come back. I breathe out heavily. “Didn’t expect to have to deal with my student. Not like so.” I sigh and go to my seat, falling into it. I slump forward, elbows on knees, exhausted. A hand runs over my back, comforting me. “How is it, me, some human turned immortal, can grasp the no slavery thing for coming up to fifty thousand years, but a person barely a tenth of that can’t? How did I fail my elves so badly?”

 

“We ignored the old ways,” Mythal murmured. “We failed you, Your Worship. You have never failed us.” She bows before me. “Yet, we have need of you once more.”

 

“Old ways? They’re literally just be respectful. No murdering. No slavery. That stuff. Anything else is generally free game. Make whatever weird laws up. Have debauched sex in places of worship. Gamble yourself into a hole you can’t get out of. Whatever, I never imposed bindings on you lot. Free will and autonomy is simply never to be bound. How is this so hard to accomplish?” I begin to rant and get up. “The only reason I can even have the energy to bitch about this is because I now have bonds. Now have some emotion back for it. And that is the only reason I care enough to try and fix things once more.”

 

I wave a hand and a glowing, magical globe of the world comes up.

 

Above it, the Breach is a crack in the sky.

 

“But I will not be kind as I am. I will be as kind as _your_ people were, Mythal.”

 

Her hand raises in denial.

 

I grasp the crude barrier, hands fisting tightly as the spirits scarper to tell the other spirits, and then I pull them apart viciously. I watch as the Breach is blasted apart, feeling as the magic on the Inquisitors’ hand explode with it. Idly I fix her up as magic suffuses the world once more and transport the four of us to the outside world. Orlais is below us, their most cherished Temple below them. I raise my hand as the gargantuan blackened city comes down and the darkness that had haunted it melted away, shining beautifully gold and glorious in the light of the sun. I let it float there, turning away to the city below, terrorised by demons. The elves are reconnected, magic flooding them, painful and crudely done.

 

I touch Solas’ chest, healing his core up and then touch Abelas, making it as large as Solas’s.

 

“There. Mythal.” The woman turns to me, reverting back to her more gorgeous form quickly. “Look after the world better this time.” I wave a hand, and all three disappear from my view. I fly up to the castle, touching down on top of the gate and survey the new world as it burns around me.

 

At least the reconstruction of it will be amusing to watch.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Might do more if the inspiration hits.


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